


Every Word, Every Thought, Every Sound

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Collars, Dom Sam Wilson, Dom/sub, Gentle Dom Sam, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Steve Rogers, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: I can do this all day, he hears himself saying, even as his eyes close in ecstasy at the click of Sam turning the locks. He holds completely still while Sam removes his helmet and shield, stripping away the first layers of the mask he wears everywhere that isn’t here. The mask they gave him when they made him big, made a symbol out of him getting to his feet, raising his shield or his fists.Steve breathes in, waits for the familiar sound of Sam picking up his collar and chain. He breathes out, makes the conscious choice to surrender.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, [ Calliope_Soars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/pseuds/Calliope_Soars)! Thank you for all your encouragement, you're amazing!

The last bad guy surrenders, and Steve lowers his shield. He glances at Sam, strong and steady behind him, and lets the mask slip for an instant, lets his eyes ask the question.

Sam gives him a nod. It’s barely perceptible, but it’s there, acknowledging and answering. Relief washes over Steve, warm like summer rain, but when Sam’s eyebrows flick up over his goggles, he remembers that they’re not done yet. There’s still work to do. Sam’s acceptance will give him the strength and stamina to get through it.

 _Just a little longer_ , he’s practically chanting under his breath three hours later, just before a scuffle amongst the criminals turns into an all-out brawl between groups heading to separate armored vehicles. Steve jumps into the fray with May and Hill flanking him. Sam is elsewhere, clearing debris from the collapsed warehouse, just in case it wasn’t as empty as it had seemed before they lured AIM’s forces here. A shot from Maria’s sidearm brings him over, though, and he hovers like an actual angel while Steve issues orders to his soldiers and ultimatums to AIM’s. 

Sam catches Steve’s eye, nods with satisfaction as everything is sorted out injury-free — because if Steve had gotten hurt at the last moment it would have ruined Sam’s plans for their night. He sends Steve a sympathetic smile before he flies back.

 _Just a little longer_ , Sam’s expression seems to say. _Just a little longer, and you can leave all this behind._

* * *

Steve wonders, as he drops to his knees in the safety of their home, if he’s always been like this. He thinks about the past, remembers the hot rage that used to run through his frail body like a drug when somebody tried to force him down. The continual need to get back on his feet.

 _I can do this all day_ , he hears himself saying, even as his eyes close in ecstasy at the click of Sam turning the locks. He holds completely still while Sam removes his helmet and shield, stripping away the first layers of the mask he wears everywhere that isn’t here. The mask they gave him when they made him big, made a symbol out of him getting to his feet, raising his shield or his fists.

Tonight, his hands are loose at his sides. His head rolls, heavy and limp, where Sam nudges it, undoing the neck of his uniform and inspecting the skin below to make sure it isn’t chafed or raw, like it sometimes gets after a long day in the field.

Steve breathes in, waits for the familiar sound of Sam picking up his collar and chain. He breathes out, makes the conscious choice to surrender, to offer it all to Sam, laid bare, knowing Sam can take it.

Sometimes Sam can’t, and Steve used to worry that he did it anyway, the same way he used to worry that Sam only followed him after HYDRA and Bucky and all the rest because of some misplaced sense of duty. But Sam had noticed Steve’s distraction, pried a confession out of him, and told him just how wrong he was.

Steve knows now that Sam will refuse if he needs to, but tonight he nodded, and the smooth cold leather is secure against Steve’s flushed skin, sending a welcome chill across his shoulder blades and down. He opens his eyes to find Sam’s gentle smile.

“There you go,” Sam murmurs. “You can wear it while we eat. I’ll have to take it off again for your shower.”

Steve nods. After the weight of the uniform all day, his collar — even for half an hour — is a blessed relief.

He wonders vaguely, as Sam strips out of his own gear and crosses the foyer to the kitchen, if it would have been like this with Peggy. If things were different, if he’d landed that plane and they’d kept fighting, would he have asked her for this, too? Would he have needed to, back then?

He doesn’t know. Because it wasn’t like this with Sam, back when they started — started what, he wasn’t sure; they just _started_. Sam was all questions then — _Is this okay? Is this what you want?_ — to the point that Steve found it almost irritating. He told Sam so one morning after, as gently as he could.

“You don’t have to keep checking in,” he said.

Sam shook his head. “If I don’t ask, I won’t know.”

“I trust you,” Steve replied, softly and earnestly, but Sam set down his coffee cup with a pointed thud.

“That’s not good enough, Steve. I trust you, too, but when it comes to sex, I can’t know what you want. And I’m not gonna stop asking just because there’s a chance it might kill your buzz.”

“That’s not it,” Steve replied, even though he had to confess that was part of it. “What if I told you in advance? We could talk about it, write it down, even. Then you’d know. And I’d know, too, for you.”

Sam raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Like a contract?”

“I guess?” said Steve. He blew out a breath. “I just....”

“You just what?” Sam prompted when he trailed off. “What is it?”

Steve lowered his eyes, watched the reflection of the ceiling ripple in his coffee as he drummed his fingers, thinking about how to put it into words. “Sometimes, I want to — or maybe I need to. I want to trust that you know what’s best for me. Because I can’t constantly be the one to....”

“You don’t want to be in charge all the time?” Sam offered gently.

Steve’s face was burning, but he nodded gratefully. “It’s too much,” he said. “Sometimes. Maybe we could— I don’t know,” he sighed, chancing an upwards glance.

Sam wasn’t looking at him with shame or contempt. Steve could tell he was thinking it through, turning the problem around in his mind. At last he nodded.

“Let me work on that, baby.”

Three days later they were putting it all down on paper — guidelines, boundaries, safe words. They spent some time online, separately and together, reading, researching, shopping. Steve asked for a collar six months later; Sam suggested a chain.

And now here they are.  

“Up,” Sam says. He’s finished with whatever he was doing in the kitchen and tugging lightly at the chain attached to the collar’s large metal ring. “Bedroom first. Change your clothes, dinner’s on the way.”

He heads for the hall, trusting without looking that Steve will follow. Steve does.

Hunger and fatigue are starting to creep up on him as he walks the few steps to the bedroom, keeping his eyes on the chain held lightly in Sam’s left hand. Sometimes, if Steve’s being a brat, Sam will pull it or make Steve go first, but Steve has a feeling that neither of them has it in him for complications tonight.

“Here,” Sam says. “Put these on, it’s gonna be cold tonight.”

He passes Steve a clean t-shirt and a pair of flannel pyjama pants. Steve has a quick flashback to Senator Brandt shoving the USO outfit into his hands, but he pushes it away immediately. This is nothing like that; Brandt made him wear that suit for his own purposes, while Sam’s making him wear this for no one’s benefit but Steve’s.

“Food should be here in twenty minutes,” Sam tells him, on their way back to the living room.

He settles in one corner of the couch and looks at the cushion beside him. Steve goes without any further prompting, and Sam kisses him and pulls him down, moves Steve how he wants him until Steve is crowded up behind him, practically spooning Sam right off the couch. Sam tugs at Steve’s right hand, so Steve wraps his arms around Sam to hold on.

Sam hums happily and reaches for the remote. Cuddled close together, they watch highlights on ESPN until their food comes.

* * *

Sam gets the door. Sam pays — from their joint account — and Sam dishes out the food. He’s ordered them a feast from the Vietnamese place down the block: bowls of Pho and dishes of curry; Pad Thai and an entire box of the spring rolls that Steve finds so addictive. He’s tempted to snag one while Sam places them on a plate, and if he weren’t wearing his collar, he might. Tonight, though, he sits at the table where Sam told him to, and he waits.

Sam bites into a spring roll as he crosses the kitchen, and Steve is riveted, watching Sam’s pink tongue dart out to catch a flake of pastry on his bottom lip. Sam catches him looking and his lips twitch up into a half-smile before he pops the rest into his mouth.

Steve licks his own lips, his mouth suddenly dry. The yearning he feels goes far beyond hunger, and Sam knows it.

“You want something, baby?” Sam asks a second later, teasing but with an edge of power that never fails to make Steve’s heart stutter. He sets the plate down, just out of Steve’s reach. “You can ask.”

Steve shakes his head quickly. He wants to wait.

Sam just smiles.

* * *

“Okay,” Sam says, once their plates are clear. “Dishes will wait till morning. Right now: shower and bed.”

Steve gets to his feet after Sam does, follows him down the hall again. He undresses and starts the water when Sam tells him to, then stands by the tub, naked except for his collar, waiting for Sam to return.

“You’re going to fuck me tonight,” Sam says matter-of-factly when he comes back into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

“Yes,” Steve replies eagerly.

Sam sends him a sharp look. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve corrects himself hastily.

“That’s better.” Sam pulls his shirt off over his head, a smooth roll of muscle and skin. His eyes drift towards Steve’s cock, which already feels heavy against his thigh. “But first we’ll shower, and I’m gonna suck you off. Because you’re not gonna last like that, and I need it slow tonight.”

 _God._ Steve swallows hard as more blood rushes south, the tips of his fingers tingling with the sheer want that floods him when he imagines Sam stretched out around him, tight and hot and perfect.

“Yes, Sir,” he says again.

Sam smirks at the little catch in his throat. He leans past Steve, resting a warm hand on his hip like he’s a piece of furniture, to check the water.

“It’s too hot,” he complains, stepping back. “Fix it.”

Steve adjusts the taps a fraction of an inch and Sam nods when he checks it again. He’s naked now, his cock nestled soft amid the dark curls. Steve wants to lick it, feel it expand against his tongue, but he stays perfectly still as Sam steps close and unbuckles his collar.

“I’m putting this in the bedroom, away from the humidity,” he tells Steve, but he stays close, nudging the head of Steve’s cock with his hip.

Steve bites his lip with the effort not to move, because all he wants to do is grab Sam and tug him close, grind against his smooth skin until he comes, gasping and messy right here in the bathroom while the water’s running beside them.

But he’s not in charge tonight.

Sam’s eyes flick down, and he gives Steve that tiny satisfied grin again. “Good,” he says, making Steve’s skin flush even more with the simple praise. “Get in,” he adds. “Start without me.”

With that he’s gone again, the bathroom door letting in a draft of cooler air as he leaves.

Steve takes a shaky breath and draws aside the curtain. Stepping over the side of the tub is tricky — he’s painfully hard now — but he manages. The water is cooler than he likes it, since it’s set to Sam’s temperature, which helps. It lets him settle down enough that he can grab the soap, start washing away the sweat and grime of the day’s fight.

 _Start without me_ , he reminds himself, once the worst of it is off his skin. He soaps up his hand, widens his stance, and reaches back, massaging his sensitive balls more than cleaning them, before taking his cock in hand.

He hasn’t been at it very long when he hears Sam enter the room again. The shower curtain moves, and Sam’s hand is on him a second later when he tries to turn and face him.

“As you were,” Sam instructs lowly. His fingers spread, kneading the tight muscle of Steve’s ass as his teeth and tongue dance along the base of Steve’s neck. “Get yourself good and ready, baby, I want to taste it.”

Steve can’t help the small noise that escapes his throat when Sam covers his hand with his own and squeezes, moves it up and down in a slow, teasing stroke. Steve twists his neck without thinking, asking Sam for a kiss, and Sam tsks but gives it to him anyway.

“You’re spoiled,” he murmurs.

 _You spoil me_ , Steve thinks, but before he can speak Sam’s turning him, moving him, pressing him against the back wall. Steve takes his hand off his dick and waits while Sam licks his lips and kneels on the cushioned bathmat.

He tsks again. “Did I say you could stop?” he asks, and nibbles at the crease of Steve’s thigh.

“Sorry, Sir,” Steve says quickly. He practically jumps, scrambling to get his hands back on himself, and starts stroking again, faster, only a fraction of an inch away from Sam’s face.

“You’d better be,” Sam tells him. “Spread your legs a little, let me in.”

Steve does, and Sam’s tongue skirts the edges of his fingers like hot, wet satin. Steve inhales, slows his hand, but Sam’s mouthing at the base of his cock now, making soft noises in his throat that Steve can feel. His balls are tight, his pulse racing through every inch of his body.

“Sam,” he chokes, from the edge of the knife. “Please, I—”

“Stop,” Sam orders, loud and harsh.

Steve’s hand flies away, flutters like a startled sparrow until Sam grabs it, places it on his shoulder. Still desperate, Steve fights the base urge to draw him in, to thrust forward and rub his cock against Sam’s mouth until he opens it.

But that’s not the way it works tonight.

Sam’s not cruel — he just wants to do the job himself. He smirks up at Steve, knowing and pleased, before he takes Steve in, all at once. Steve’s eyes close, he’s moaning again as Sam sucks him down to the root.

The wave builds quickly, everything in him stretching to the breaking point, and Steve can’t hold on, not with Sam’s mouth collapsing so perfectly around him. He comes, comes undone, Sam’s name a grateful prayer on his lips, his legs shaking with the release, his hands heavy as he leans on Sam’s shoulders for support.

When his eyes open, he watches in a daze as Sam turns and rinses his mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, what?” Sam asks, still facing away.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” says Sam, turning back and putting his hands in Steve’s. “Now help me up, I’m getting too old to kneel like that.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Steve says without thinking — apparently his mouth is pretty far away from his brain at this moment, because he only realizes what he’s said when Sam’s eyebrows go up. Steve drops his gaze at once, and Sam tugs at him until they’ve switched places, and Steve is under the water.

“Wash your hair,” he orders, handing Steve his shampoo. “Then get out of here — you don’t get to help me get ready tonight.”

Steve knows better — now — than to argue. He follows Sam’s instructions and steps out of the shower only a minute later.

“And don’t you even think about touching yourself which you’re waiting,” Sam adds sternly, twitching aside the curtain to watch him wrap himself in a towel. “You get in bed and you stay there. Don’t move a muscle until I come back. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve affirms meekly, and he goes.

Steve dries himself off — taking care to leave his sensitive cock and balls untouched — and heads to the bed. He can hear Sam humming tunelessly on the other side of the door as he lies down, lets his eyes drift closed.

But Sam’s humming changes after a minute, becoming something more sensual — a low groan, a tiny grunt. Steve can hear everything in the adjacent room with his enhanced senses, a fact which Sam knows, of course, and is now taking advantage of. This is his punishment, having to listen and wait, unable to touch himself or Sam.

Steve takes it gladly.

Sam’s breathing changes, stutters, and then he sighs. If Steve had to guess, he’s started fingering himself, just a little. Maybe his other hand is on his cock, Steve thinks, as Sam groans again, louder than before. Steve’s dick isn’t ready to stir yet, but it will be soon, with this soundtrack and images he can conjure while he waits.

A squeak of skin against the tile wall — Sam’s bent forward. The stream of water should be hitting his broad shoulders now, running in smooth rivulets down Sam’s skin, all the way to where Sam’s hand is disappearing into his body. He’s not added a second finger yet; maybe he’s teasing himself, making himself wait, too. He did say he wanted it slow tonight.

A quiet grunt — that’s the second finger, and Steve shivers. He can feel it, the weight of Sam’s round ass in his hand, the intensely tight heat of that first ring of muscle giving way. Steve closes his eyes again, runs his tongue along his lips, imagines kissing the place behind Sam’s balls, the spot that makes him turn liquid and wanting. He wants to run his tongue up, lick around his fingers and feel Sam’s pulse under his mouth, get Sam wet and ready to take his cock.

Steve’s definitely hard again now. He shifts his hips uselessly against the mattress, his cock driving up into nothing, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“Ah— _ah_ ,” Sam moans suddenly, and Steve presses his lips tight together to keep from echoing him.

Steve knows that sound: Sam’s just crooked his fingers inside, found the place that makes the pleasure brighter, sharper. The place that Steve loves to touch because it makes Sam’s eyes close when they’re open and open when they’re closed.

It won’t be long now — and even as Steve thinks it, the shower switches off and Sam is crossing the bedroom to the dresser, his chest sparkling with a few water droplets, a green towel slung too low on his hips, highlighting rather than hiding the hard curve of his erection. He turns, and in his hand is—

“Sit up,” Sam says, and Steve’s at the edge of the bed in an instant, holding his head high, so Sam can collar him.

The chain’s been disconnected, but Sam doesn’t need it; he runs a finger, warm but dry, between the leather and Steve’s skin. Steve shivers again, thinking of where Sam’s hand just was, before Sam pulls, yanking Steve forward into a kiss. It’s messy and deep, with Sam’s teeth nipping at Steve’s bottom lip, and Steve’s so hard it hurts.

He whimpers when Sam pulls back to drop the towel, keeping his grip on Steve’s collar. It reminds him that Sam’s in charge, that he has to keep still — Steve is only six inches from Sam’s cock, and all he wants to do is close that gap and lick the drop of moisture at its tip.

“Move,” Sam instructs, slowly withdrawing his hand from Steve’s neck. “So your back’s at the headboard.”

Steve goes without a word, and Sam climbs up, grabs supplies from their bedside table. Steve hisses through his teeth at the first brush of his cock against Sam’s slick hole, and he moans out loud when Sam reaches back to roll the condom on and spread lube over his entire length.

“That’s it, baby,” Sam says, low and breathy. He puts Steve’s hands on his waist, uses them to help guide himself down. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh— oh, Sam,” Steve groans at the tight heat suddenly enfolding the head of his cock. His hips try to buck up, almost involuntarily, but Sam shakes his head. Steve goes still at once.

“Wait,” he says clearly, and he takes Steve at his own pace. “Not everything has to be fast, Rogers.”

“Yes,” Steve replies, breathless. He’ll say yes to anything Sam asks him. Everything Sam wants for him is good, and this is _so good_ , so hot and slick and _right_ , to be here, inside, with Sam fucking him slow and steady.

“Yes,” Sam repeats. His eyes are closed, and he sounds out of air too, as he lets Steve bottom out. He’s gorgeous like this, above Steve.

“Yes, Sir, yes, Sam, yes—”

“Good. Whenever you’re ready, baby,” Sam mumbles, taking his hands off his waist and gripping the headboard on either side of Steve’s face. “Move. Slow.”

Steve nods, lifts Sam almost all the way up, shoving his hips up to follow, watching Sam’s eyes close, letting him know he found the perfect angle. They settle into a rhythm, maddeningly slow. Intense. Steve can feel each fibre in the sheet under his back, can taste each mouthful of air he pulls in and lets out. Their bodies make music in the dim-lit room, their breath the irregular drumbeat.

It feels like hours until Sam wraps Steve’s hand around his cock, guides him in a tight stroke that slowly gets faster. Steve fights to keep his hips moving at the same steady pace, but he’s overcome, speeding up, and Sam nods as Steve moves him, raising him with one hand and driving up, harder each time, faster each time, until it’s Sam’s turn to chant _yes, yes, yes_ , and there’s a hot splash on Steve’s chest, his face.

He swipes his tongue out, catches Sam’s familiar taste, and his orgasm takes him by surprise, surging up and through him like a sudden storm. He hears himself cry out from afar, hears Sam’s soothing voice respond, and then it’s over, he’s spent and sinking into the mattress while Sam climbs off him and the bed.

Steve’s eyes close, only to jerk open at the touch of a warm washcloth wiping him down.

“You spoil me,” he slurs, finally saying what he’d wanted to earlier.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sam replies, with what Steve thinks is a chuckle. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“I love you,” Steve manages, seconds or minutes later, when Sam gets into bed, slots himself into Steve’s arms. “Thank you.”

“Love you, too,” Sam says. He reaches back, traces the line of the collar still around Steve’s neck. “Now follow an order for once in your life and go to sleep.”

Steve falls asleep before he’s finished laughing.   

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Surrender" by Billy Talent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPabKxzcy6o).


End file.
